The Headache: Soup vs Tea
by Nyx6
Summary: Starsky's ill and while Hutch pops out to get medicine, he leaves two unlikely nursemaids in charge, resulting in disaster...and a headache! Short and sweet, well, unless you're Starsky...awwww!


Well, here we are everyone. My first dip into the world of Starsky and Hutch. Now, this is just me waggling my toes in the shallows, so it's not long, confusing or angsty…it's just, well, Starsky, as per usual, having a bad day…and Dobey and Huggy don't help! Please review! Bu-bye!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Starsky coughed, the sound and sudden movement sending waves of pain through his heavy, foggy head. He groaned in accompaniment.

He hated being ill, hated it with a fierce passion. He was a cop, he was used to living life on the edge, pounding down the streets after armed suspects, not lying in his sick-bed, too hot one minute, too cold the next, unable to lift his head or shake off the deep, relentless pounding that echoed around his brain and sinus'.

He groaned again.

_Crap_.

"Starsk?" A head peered cautiously around the door, breaking into a vaguely sympathetic grin at the dazed pathetic grunt he got in response.

"Starsk?" Hutch tried again, stepping fully into the room. Although the window was wide open in an attempt to cool his partner down, the room still smelt strongly of menthol, due in part to the big goopy globule of the stuff he'd smeared across his chest earlier, which, to be honest, hadn't been met with much enthusiasm.

"Wha-?" Starsk groaned, the reply barely audible from where his face was half-buried in the pillow.

Hutch smiled,

"You got another visitor," he sang softly.

Starsky frowned, he knew Huggy was in the other room somewhere, having dropped by earlier and seemingly settled himself in, but another visitor? Boy was he popular. Perhaps Hutch had called a nice, attractive young off-duty nurse. He looked up hopefully.

"Starsky? Good God you look like Hell!" As Dobey stepped, ever frowning into the room, his tone no more compassionate than usual, Starsky let his head fall back again heavily, though not before he'd caught Hutch's smile.

"Cap," he groaned shortly in greeting.

As Dobey stood dithering in the doorway, Hutch came to take a seat on the other side of Starsky's bed, sitting back against the headrest,

"Dobey just wanted to come and check you weren't pulling the wool over his eyes…isn't that nice Starsk?"

Dobey shot daggers at the blonde-haired sergeant and cleared his throat hurriedly.

"Err…well, I…you know you're not the type to get sick that often Starsky, and I just thought I'd see how you were doing on my way home."

"How nice," came the groggy reply. Dobey's brow folded deeper. The man was as sick as a dog and yet he still didn't ease up with the sarcastic retorts.

"Now Starsky…" Dobey stepped forward with one finger raised but was silenced by a series of painful sounding coughs from the sleepy figure balled in his blanket.

"Oh leave him alone will ya Cap, you can hardly shout at him when he's sick."

As he spoke, Hutch leant over, picking up the glass of water he'd placed on the nightstand earlier and passed it to his partner,

"Come on buddy sit up a bit huh? It'll stop you coughing everywhere," Hutch smiled softly, waiting until Starsky had struggled into a more up-right position, helping as best as he could with his spare hand, moving the blankets and propping up the cushion.

Fondling his hat ashamedly, Dobey stepped forward to assist. Pulling down the restricting covers and allowing Starsky to sit almost upright, the bleary, blotchy face of the detective showing his reluctance to do anything other than wallow.

Hutch placed a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder and handed over the water, watching until he was done.

"How'd you feel?" It was a question Hutch knew the answer to. Starsky snorted,

"How do I look?"

The blonde grinned at his partner's question. It was a game they'd played many times before.

"Like death warmed up."

Starsky sluggishly rose a quizzical brow, seeming surprised,

"That good?"

As Hutch laughed loudly, he ignored Dobey's sigh of resignation. The Captain, for the life of him, never had quite figured out what made Starsky and Hutch's relationship work. The way they instantly knew what the other was thinking, what the other wanted to hear and what he was going to do. It completely eluded him.

"Hey Hutch?" Starsky asked hopefully, sounding like a small boy asking for another cookie, "Is it time for some more medicine yet?"

Hutch glanced at the bedside clock and slid off the bed, eyebrows raised,

"Yeah, sure is, but I'm gonna have to go grab some more. You drank the last bottle dry."

He grinned and slid past Dobey,

"You stayin' Cap?"

Dobey considered the question for a moment, still fondling the brim of his tweed hat, and gazing from the blonde to the patient. Eventually he nodded,

"Err…yes, I'll stay for a while."

"Good," Hutch nodded, "Hear that Starsk," he said in the direction of the bed, "You've got two nurse maids now, so you just take it easy, the drug store's just round the corner, I'll be back before you know it."

Starsky slid back down into the covers exhausted,

"Great."

He registered the door slamming somewhere in the background, and, shortly afterwards, the sound of a car starting up outside the window.

He smiled grimly. So at least his ears still worked. In the ensuing peace, he decided to try and get some sleep until Hutch returned with his medicine. He closed his heavy eyelids and sighed. He felt awful, but at least sleep would take away the pain.

"Hey, hey, how's the patient?"

Though undoubtedly not for much long.

Starsky merely grunted in response to Huggy's cheerful question as the thin opportunist stepped beaming into the room. Dobey cleared his throat,

"Unusually co-operative," he noted in a dry tone that Starsky failed to miss.

Huggy came round to his side of the bed, bending low, his tone that of an adult pacifying a small child.

"Anything the bear can get for you my friend?"

Starsky savoured the question, contemplating the possibilities. A miracle cure? A nurse? His gun? He parted his dry lips with some effort, he'd only had a drink a few minutes ago and already he was parched once more. His voice, when he did finally speak, was croaky and quiet,

"Could you pass me my-,"

Huggy interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers that make Starsky half-jump, something his head complained about bitterly.

"Herbal tea," he said triumphantly, grinning around the room.

"Wha-?"

Dobey, promptly ignoring Starsky's confusion, frowned from the other side of the bed.

"Herbal tea? What kind of remedy is that? Everyone knows you give a sick man chicken soup,"

Starsky sighed. All he wanted was his water.

"I don't want-,"

Huggy interrupted again, his tone unimpressed,

"Chicken soup? And since when was that a cure for everything? You ever heard a doctor prescribing chicken soup? The last time I gave our friend here chicken soup, he nearly choked on it!"

Dobey took offence, his gaze harshening.

"Everybody knows you make chicken soup…"

"Well then everybody's just plain old stupid!"

As the two men glared at each other from across the bed, Starsky tried again,

"Hey, Hug, Cap, can one of you just pass me the-,"

Dobey didn't break his narrowed gaze once, the focus of his anger the slender black man before him,

"Pipe down Starsky!…And what makes herbal tea so good?" He was back berating Huggy again and Starsky groaned loudly, rolling face-forward into his pillow and wrapping an arm across his hot, aching head.

"Herbal tea happens to be an ancient remedy from the Orient. If you mix the right natural ingredients together…"

"Well I've never heard anything so ridiculous!"

As the argument raged on, Starsky rolled over again, face pointing up at the ceiling, head about to explode.

"Please!" he groaned pitifully, "You're killing me!"

He was swiftly ignored.

"Well come on then doctor! What would you suggest?"

"I already have suggested…chicken soup! Soup is hot and filling, it'll give him energy…"

"For about an hour! The tea will cleanse and make him feel better…"

"Guys-,"

"Well fine then! You make your special tea and I'll order some soup and we'll see which one he prefers…"

Starsky felt like screaming…or jumping from his window.

"I just want some water," he managed again.

Dobey glared at him,

"Don't be frustrating Starsky, water's not what you need, you need something filling!"

Huggy bristled noticeably,

"Something cleansing!"

"Something filling!"

"Cleansing!"

"Filling."

Starsky, starved of water and feeling ever worse, suddenly started coughing.

Somewhere in the background a door slammed unnoticed.

"Cleansing!"

"Filling!"

"Cleansing!"

"Filling!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Hutch strode into the room with a frown, clutching a pharmacy bag and glaring at the two bickering factions, "What the hell is going on in here!"

He quickly crossed to the bed, placing a hand on Starsky's shoulder and reaching over for the glass.

"Take it easy buddy. I got your medicine right here."

He let Starsky take a deep gulp before he took the glass back, turning his attentions to the medicine bottle he'd pulled from the carrier.

"Hutch," Starsky groaned, "Thank God! My head's feels like it's gonna burst."

Hutch looked up from the instructions, shooting death glares at Huggy and Dobey, who were standing looking suitably ashamed.

"Yeah," he replied icily.

Dobey cleared his throat and stepped forward,

"Well, I think I best be off now. Edith will be wondering where I've got to," he put his hat on again and turned to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder, "You get better now Starsky you hear? Take your time son."

As he left, padding out softly across the lounge, Huggy heaved a sigh,

"Well, you know the bear, places to go, people to see. I'll, err, let myself out. Feel better Starsky."

"Sure thing Hug."

Blessed silence reigned.

"Hutch?"

"Hmmm,"

Starsky was marvelling at the quiet of his home.

"I think I'm deaf."

Hutch chuckled and poured out a spoonful of the liquid, shaking his head at the same time.

"I don't think those two will ever get jobs at the hospital,"

Starsky smiled, taking the spoon shakily from his partner, who let his hand hover underneath it to catch any spills. The last thing Starsky needed was a sticky, medicine soaked blanket.

"And if they do, bypass me straight to the morgue."

Hutch smiled and took back the spoon, placing the medicine on the nightstand by the water and making a mental note of the time. He stood up and drew the drapes closer, letting a warm glow fall across the room.

"You just get some rest now huh partner?" he said softly from the door.

Starsky slithered back down under the covers and nodded obediently.

"Hey Hutch."

"Yeah buddy?"

Starsky gazed at the blonde thoughtfully, Hutch standing in the doorway waiting for whatever was next.

"…I want some soup."


End file.
